When Women Talk
by r4ven3
Summary: This is the third part of the Jane Townsend trilogy, which began with "Surprise Encounter", and then continued with "A Woman Waits For Me." This story opens early in S.10 and strays from canon from there. Somehow, Jane gets herself involved in Harry's & Ruth's lives. 4 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Ruth can't see her anywhere. It is just after 6.30, and the after work crowd still lingers, finishing their wine or their coffee before heading home to spouses, partners, children, lovers, or empty houses and flats. Ruth now shares her flat with Beth Bailey, so she is in no hurry to be home. Seeing a raised hand above a wrist encircled by several bangles, Ruth smiles to herself and heads in that direction.

"God, doesn't anyone go home after work any more?" Jane asks, more to be saying _something_, than to begin a conversation. In the twelve or so months since she and Jane Townsend had had their first inauspicious encounter, they have met maybe three or four times, usually in the company of others. "I was thinking I might again have to accost you by the Thames," Jane continues, "but then you rang, so saving me the trouble."

Ruth sits, slinging her bag over the back of her chair, and sitting back with a heavy sigh.

"Hard day?" Jane asks.

"Yes. Rather difficult. It's been terrible since Harry was suspended from duty."

"I can't claim to know the whole story, and I'm supposing that any questions I ask will be met with a wall of spooks' silence, so all I can say is ….. typical Harry!"

While speaking Jane had poured a generous amount of white wine into a glass for Ruth, which she has already picked up and drawn to her lips for a much-needed gulp. "It's complicated," she says once she places the glass back on the table. "And yes, I can't tell you very much about it." Ruth fiddles with the stem of her glass, unsure of how she should best continue. "How's Phillip?" she asks, chiefly to give herself thinking time.

Jane waves her hand around in a now familiar gesture of dismissal, her bangles clunking together, her rings reflecting the wall lighting, her eyes rolling dramatically. "Oh, you know Phillip …... wonderful one day, dull as beach sand the next."

Ruth smiles as she takes another sip of wine. She misses Harry dreadfully, and has little idea when next she'll see him. Except …... "I didn't ask you here to discuss Phillip's shortcomings …... nor Harry's," Ruth says quickly, carefully placing her glass back on the table. She must slow down. The last thing she needs is to get tipsy and share something she shouldn't.

"I gather this meeting has something to do with the redoubtable Harry."

Ruth nods, casting a covert glance around the room, more from habit than necessity. The room is still overflowing with people who care little about others, and far too much about themselves. "I need to speak with Harry, but I have to be …. creative about how I go about it."

"You know, I can't remember much about the secret service and how it all works, but one thing I remember is that when an agent is suspended, he or she can still cohabit with their spouse."

Again Ruth sits back, but this time she stares across the table at her companion. _The cheek of the woman_! She can't believe Jane has just said that.

"Oh, don't be like that, Ruth. It was you who told me Harry proposed to you all those months ago. I'm merely stating the obvious. Had you said yes, then you'd not have to devise a way of meeting him in secret."

"Water under the bridge."

"God! Why is it you and Harry and Phillip insist on speaking in metaphors! Doesn't anyone speak plain English any more?"

"I seem to remember that you once taught English, Jane."

"English, yes. Double-speak, no. My son texted me. Perhaps you can act as interpreter." Jane takes her phone from her bag, and scrolls through until she reaches the text Graham had sent her. "What does this mean?" She hands the phone to Ruth, who reads a series of intelligible English words, interspersed with _gr8_ and _l8r _and_ nvr _and _ur_.

"I think he wants to meet you after his Monday night tutorial," Ruth says, handing the phone back to Jane.

"I'm just too old for this world," Jane says with accompanying dramatic emphasis.

"We're all too old for this world."

"Including Harry it seems."

"Especially Harry," Ruth says, staring into the distance where a group of mid-20's women are playing a drinking game, their laughter getting louder each time someone has to down their drink. "Only this time it's the service which wants to get rid of one of its own."

Jane follows Ruth's gaze to the group of young women. "You don't wish to be like them, surely."

"No. I have no wish to be 25 again. I was never that confident."

"Those girls are only confident when they're drunk." Jane brings her glass to her lips and takes a lady-like sip, and then watches Ruth over the rim of her glass. "So, Ruth …... I take it this is not two girls out for a drink and a good time. What is it you want me to do?"

Ruth sighs, and sits back in her chair before leaning forward again so that she is closer to Jane. "I need you to get a parcel to Harry ….. a small parcel. You carry a bag big enough to carry an automatic weapon, so -"

"You want me to take a _gun_ to Harry?"

"Not a gun, no. I have a small box in my bag. In it is a phone which I need you to get to Harry ….. so that I can communicate with him without anyone listening in on our conversation."

"Why not post it?"

"Too risky. Internal Affairs randomly checks the mail – both snail and electronic - of people they're surveilling."

Jane hesitates before answering. "You see, this is one of the many things I hated about the secret service. All that …... _secrecy_."

"It is a _secret_ service."

"Yes, yes, of course, but everyone knows that the other side knows that they know what they know. No-one fools anyone else. If you walked up to Harry's front door and knocked -"

"My presence would be reported, and then I'd also be suspended from duty, and there'd be no chance I'd see him before his tribunal."

"What have you ever done wrong? Why would they punish you?"

"They – the service – believes that Harry committed …... a …... wrong-doing …... to save my life."

"And did he?"

"Technically yes."

"Well …... that _is_ good news," Jane says with a smile, her eyes wide.

"_Good_ news?"

"That Harry loves someone enough to commit a crime against Her Majesty."

"Harry loves his children very much, and I also believe that he loved you ….. as best he knew how at the time. And yes, he loves me enough to risk his career to save me." Ruth sits back and watches Jane's face, which is impassive. "I've already said too much. You're not to repeat anything I've said tonight …... not to anyone …... other than Harry, of course."

"Of course. Today's secrets are tomorrow's gossip, and next week's wrapping around the fish and chips."

"Now who's speaking in metaphors?" Again Jane's eyes widen in surprise. As she sees it, Harry's suspension can be a good thing if it gets Ruth out from within his shadow. "If Harry goes down," Ruth continues, "he'll be gaoled for a very long time."

"How long?"

"Upwards of fifteen years."

"That's ridiculous. Even I know that Harry, flawed as the man may be, does not deserve to be locked up for doing his job ….. as impossibly bewildering as his job is to me." Jane knocks back the remainder of the wine in her glass, and places her glass very carefully on the table. "So, Ruth …... what do you want me to do?"

* * *

Harry has only just finished cleaning up after breakfast when he hears his front doorbell. "Bloody hell, Leo," he says aloud. "Tie a knot in it." Expecting it to be the younger of the two IA minders who has been using his loo several times a day for the past three weeks, he is shocked to see his ex-wife on the doorstep, her mouth curved in a smirk and a sparkle in her eyes. He stands with one hand on the door, not sure what he should do.

"You'd better ask me in, Harry, before Mr Ferocious across the street knocks me down with one of his death stares."

Harry steps aside to allow her into his hallway. "Why are you here?" he asks.

"Can we do this somewhere else, Harry? I'm not about to bite or snarl, and God knows, I'm not planning to kiss you."

"Thank God for small mercies," he says, leading her down the hallway to the kitchen. "Would you like a tea …. coffee?"

"Tea would be nice. Earl Grey if you have it. A dash of milk, no sugar."

Harry shows Jane to a chair, and then busies himself with filling the electric kettle, gathering together tea and sugar and milk and two mugs. When he hands Jane her mug of tea, she hesitates before taking it from him.

"My mother always said tea should be served in a cup and saucer."

"Your mother was a narcissist."

"Well, yes, that is true, but she was still my mother, and she had -"

"- wonderful manners, yes, I remember all that. I know this is not a social call, and I haven't requested your visit, so why are you here?"

Jane brings a halt to Harry's tirade by slowly sipping her tea. "Lovely," she says. "Just what I needed."

"You could have had a cup of Earl Grey at home, served to you by Phillip, and in your best china, too. Why are you here? This is not about Graham, I hope."

"No. Graham is fine. Last I heard he has an exam on Thursday next week, so he's busily studying. And Catherine is fine also. She and Mark have flown to Australia for two weeks ….. something about a refugee summit. I think they're staying in Melbourne." She looks down and takes another slow sip of her tea. "The secret word you're looking for is Ruth."

"Jesus, Jane. Why didn't you say so? I thought something terrible had happened to one of our kids. Is Ruth alright? I haven't been able to contact her, and to attempt to is to risk her freedom also."

"Ruth is very well. It's clear she misses you." The _I still don't know why she would_ is implied.

"And?"

"Oh, Harry, patience is a virtue."

"Jane, quoting your mother might impress Phillip, but it irritates me beyond any imagining."

"How many women do you know who are friends with their ex's new love? You should be thanking me, Harry."

"`Friends' is a very flexible concept. Ruth is a useful channel through which you believe you can influence me."

"Oh, rot! You're lucky I'm so friendly," Jane throws back, as Harry stares at her with his mouth open. "Phillip's ex-wife can't stand me. I suspect her of having a contract out on my life."

"You're only friends with Ruth because she's so tolerant, and _she_ is the one fostering the friendship. _You_ are doing little more than taking advantage of her kind heart."

They stare across the table at one another, the air charged with their energy – part anger, part memory of what had once attracted them to one another. Harry suddenly remembers that it would be at this point in proceedings that they would throw aside their clothes and have frantic sex on the nearest available surface. He sees the invitation in Jane's eyes, and he breaks eye contact with her.

"Did we almost …...?" she says huskily.

"No, we didn't. We are each committed to others."

"If you say so."

"You know so." Harry stands, pushing back his chair with the backs of his legs. The screeching of wood on wood breaks the tension between them. "I take it you are here on an errand from Ruth," he says, his back to Jane as he empties his tea into the sink and then rinses the cup under the tap. "You'd better get on with it."

By the time he turns from the sink to face her, Jane is holding a mobile phone in her hand. "Ruth wants you to have this."

Harry sighs as he takes the phone from her hand. Now he is free to show her to the door. He was not even mildly tempted by her presence, but he _was_ irritated by it. He'd almost forgotten how much Jane enjoys playing games. "It's time you left," he says.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane's instructions were for Harry to wait until Ruth rings him, so he does as he's told. Like every day since he'd been on suspension, the day stretches ahead of him, with very little to fill his time. Like every other day in the previous three weeks he walks to the nearest Waitrose, which is well over a mile away. There is a Tesco much closer to home, but he'll only shop there if he's in a hurry. It is a sad indictment on what his life has become that the highlight of his day is supermarket shopping, and the most difficult decision he has to make is whether to buy two bottles of red or two bottles of white wine, or one of each. In an effort to take care of himself, he has sworn off whisky, but only for the time being.

Despite it being a cold day, Harry ventures into the back garden and wanders around, deciding whether he's bored enough to attempt tidying the bushes and small trees which seem to have taken over the space where once he could sit outside on a reclining chair and get some sun while reading a book. Not that he's had time for either lying around in the sun or reading for pleasure. What little spare time he has is spent with Ruth, and now that he has all the time in the world, he is forbidden from seeing her. Providence is cruel. He is relieved to feel a few spots of rain on his scalp, so he quickly heads inside. A book it is then.

At a few minutes past 9 that evening Harry's safe phone rings. He picks it up from the low table beside the sofa and answers with her name. "Ruth," he says, hoping he has been able to convey with that one word how much he misses her.

"At last," she replies, with equal longing. "I have missed you so much, Harry, and the Grid is a mad and bewildering place without you. Tell me how you are. Are you keeping your spirits up?"

"If that is a veiled reference to my whisky drinking, then I have to tell you that I haven't bought any whisky in over two weeks."

"That's …... good news. So how are you otherwise?"

"Bored. I'm so bored, Ruth, and I miss you."

"I've missed you too."

"We could – you know – hop into bed, and talk dirty to one another."

"Harry, as enticing as that sounds, I'm so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open. Once I'm in bed I'll be asleep within seconds. At least talking to you will serve to keep me awake."

"I'm glad I can be of use to someone."

"I didn't mean it like that. I've been waiting all day for this moment. My biggest fear was that you'd not even open the door to Jane, and that if you had, you'd have told her to get lost, and then closed the door in her face."

"I almost did, but she took me completely by surprise. Of all the people I know, she was the last I expected to find on my doorstep."

"I hope you were polite to her."

"When am I not polite?" Ruth has to stifle a laugh, and it comes out as a cough. "Am I not polite to her?"

"It's the way in which you are polite to her. You speak so nicely to one another, but the sarcasm you both use could slice through a copy of the White Pages. I asked her to text me once she'd delivered the phone to you. She wrote something like: _Baby delivered. Father grateful, mother got out alive_."

"Sounds like she is at last enjoying all this `spy stuff', which is what she used to call it …... like we're all living inside a James Bond movie. If she knew what really happens …..."

"She'd never be able to deal with what really happens, Harry, although surely she'd been forewarned before she agreed to marry you."

Harry's silence tells Ruth she has hit on some fundamental stumbling block between Harry and Jane.

"I ….. didn't tell her," Harry says quietly.

"Didn't tell her what? That you were a spy?" The laughter in Ruth's voice conveys her belief that he's joking.

"Not until after we were married …... on the day we were married."

"Harry, that's …... awful."

"I hadn't wanted to tell you. I didn't think it had anything to do with us, but …..."

"Well, it doesn't. It's just that that degree of …... secrecy, should it occur between us, is …... it could be fatal to …... us, Harry. I have no need to know every little thing you've done, but I need to know _you_."

Harry sighs into the phone. He knows that the next few minutes of conversation will be important, and with them not being in the same room, Ruth can easily terminate the conversation by hanging up.

"What is it, Harry? What's wrong? Say something."

"I …. you do know me, Ruth. You know me better than anyone has ever known me. I wanted Jane to marry me, and I thought were she to have known the truth about what I did for a living, she'd leave me."  
"Did you really believe her to be that shallow?"

"Well …. no, but …... she was different back then. She was more ….. sensitive. The way she acts now, it's just her way of maintaining control."

"It works for her. That's why she does it." Ruth hesitates, as she becomes aware of how much of their conversation has been taken up with a discussion about Jane. "Don't ever keep anything like that from me," she continues. "It's like lying."

"I know. I'm trying to be open with you, Ruth. It's just that …..."

"What? What is it?"

"Christ, Ruth, I'm a spy. I lie for a living. I pretend for a living. It's as though I've spent the last 25 years in one long poker game. I find it difficult to simply …... open up to someone."

"Not just someone, Harry. I'm asking you to be honest and open with me. We won't last the distance otherwise. I need to be able to trust the person to whom I give everything of myself."

"I thought you already did."

"I do ….. trust you, but ….."

"What, Ruth?" Ruth takes so long to reply that Harry begins to panic – quietly and internally, so that she'll have no idea about the bleakest of bleak scenarios he is already imagining. "Ruth …... you're frightening me."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know what you're thinking. For all I know you could be considering that I'm not worth it, and that you're about to end it."

"I have no such intention, Harry. I only brought this up because of what you told me about what you didn't tell Jane. This is important to me …... to _us_ ….. because I intend being with you until …... well, forever. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes." His voice is barely more than a whisper as he breathes out in relief. "It's what I've always wanted, Ruth."

"Good. We're on the same page then."

"So, if I find it hard to open all my internal doors to you – doors behind which I barely dare glance – you won't give up on me?"

"No, Harry. I didn't go to all the trouble to get safe phones for us, then arrange to meet Jane, hopefully instilling some sense of how important it is that she be discreet, just so that I could break up with you on the phone."

Again there is a long silence between them, which is quite alright, since neither has anything better to be doing. Ruth is stifling a yawn, and Harry is thinking he's a very lucky man, when he decides to change the subject.

"I'm sorry, Ruth."

"About what? You are who you are. All I'm asking is that you make an effort for me ….. for us."

"I'm sorry for …. this situation we're in ….. the suspension, giving away Albany, you name it. I seem to have screwed up, not only my life, but yours also."

"Harry ….. I can't begin to understand the pressure you were under that day -"

"Pressure, perhaps, but there was no doubting the choice I had to make."

He hears Ruth sigh heavily. "I know. Everyone knows about us, you know. Everyone. Even your replacement - Erin Watts - knows about us."

"What did she say?"

"She keeps asking me about you, and I tell her the truth – that I haven't been able to speak to you. She …. seems to have the ear of one of the probable members of the tribunal … the tribunal which will hear your case."

"Or not."

"What do you mean?"

"I suspect that the tribunal will meet in secret – without me – and my fate will be sealed, and then delivered to me on the last day of the hearing. I'm no longer young, and they clearly have my replacement in place." Ruth's silence only reinforces his thoughts and words. "Why don't we just ….?"

"What?"

"Ruth …... why don't we pack our things and take off somewhere?"

"Is that what you want?"

This time it is he who sighs. "I miss you. I'd do almost anything to be with you right now ….. even something irrational. You …... calm me, keep me stable." Harry waits for a reply, but there is silence. "Ruth? Have I put you to sleep?"

"No, although I'm now feeling rather sad. I'd come around to yours now and break in so that we can spend the night together ….. but …."

"But what?"

"I'm too tired ….. even for that."

"Ruth …. we'll get through this. We've been challenged before and we made it through. We'll manage this one too."

"I wish we didn't have to _manage_ anything. I'm not sure this job is worth what we're both having to endure."

For over a week now Harry has been thinking the same thing. His priorities have changed. He now has to consider the effect his job will have on Ruth. They have already been through enough, more than most people could even contemplate.

"There is one thing though," Ruth says. "I'm not sure what to make of Erin Watts. She keeps her distance from us, and she has brought in another field officer in Calum Reid."

"Any good?"

"It's early days yet. He's being kept busy on the Grid, but I suspect he wants to get out and about, and get a taste of adventure."

"God help us all."

"But it's something Erin said to me in private that I suspect she'd want me to pass on to you." Ruth takes a breath to give herself thinking time. She doesn't want Harry to be howling her down before she's even begun. "She suggests that you put together a report on my ….. importance to MI5 …... the idea being that you gave away a weapon to save someone whose value to the country is …."

"Immeasurable. I've been thinking along similar lines, but I'd prefer you to be forewarned about such a report."

"I know I'm good at what I do, Harry. I'm just not sure that there is a case for …... what you did based on my …. value."

"Ruth …... I've had ample time to think about this, and the conclusion I have come to is that I would have done the same thing for any member of my team. None of you are dispensable. I would have moved mountains to save Tariq as much as to save you."

"Would you, really? Is that what you're telling yourself?"

Harry's silence is heavy, as he thinks through Ruth's words. "If I'm being honest …... perhaps I would have saved Tariq, but not with the same degree of ….. fervour with which I was hell bent on getting you out alive. I might be a spy who lies, cheats and pretends for a living, but my love for you is no lie. I'm not pretending where you are concerned."

"Oh, Harry …. I wish you were here, or I was there. That is one of the most beautiful things you have said to me ….. ever."

"We'll get through this, Ruth. We must, and if they gaol me, it won't be forever."

"Erin is sure they won't lock you up."

"Does she have insider information?"

"She won't say, but I suspect so."

"Has she shared such information with you?"

"Not in so many words. What she has said is that they want you to do something for them in return for your freedom."

"Bloody hell. I think I know what that is."

"What?"

"Ruth. I suspect they want me to stand down …. from my position as Section Head. They've found a new puppet."

"Erin Watts?"

"The very same."


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: This is the second last chapter. My thanks to readers and reviewers._**

* * *

2½ weeks later – Thames embankment:

When in need of some quiet time for thinking Ruth heads to the embankment. She's been escaping there throughout the time of Harry's suspension, and now he is again free to come and go as he pleases, she finds herself there, leaning against the wall, staring across the grey water to the Houses of Parliament. It is such a familiar sight to her that she is surprised she doesn't dream about it. Just lately, since Harry had been suspended, she has been so tired, so run down by the time she climbs into bed that her sleep has been dreamless. She had not seen Harry at all during his 5 weeks of suspension, but the nightly phone calls had served to keep them close, giving them each something to look forward to of an evening. It has not been the same as seeing one another, but it was far preferable to no contact at all.

Since Harry has had to face two days of the tribunal, they have spoken briefly face to face, and have shared brief phone conversations, but have not been free to spend private time together. Harry's future status had only been announced that morning – the last session of the tribunal – and he is now a free man.

"Well …. look who it is, and I wasn't even stalking you."

It is immediately clear to Ruth who is standing behind her, and that the cough which follows the woman's statement belongs to a man. Ruth would rather be left alone to contemplate the events of the past two days, but for now she is about to forego that luxury. She cannot be impolite to someone who had done her a favour when asked. She turns from the river, a smile at the ready.

"Jane …. Phillip …. what brings you here?"

Jane turns to Phillip and kisses his cheek. "Run along now, darling. I need to talk to Ruth." Ruth waves half-heartedly to Phillip as he smiles and does as he's told. "He still has to make lots of money so that we can go on our big tour of Europe next year," Jane adds quietly, shoving her hands into the deep pockets of her coat. "You look like you could do with a drink."

Ruth surprises herself by nodding. "It will have to be coffee. I still have to work this afternoon."

* * *

Jane has led them to a small coffee shop across from the embankment, one which Ruth has visited many times, mostly with Harry, but just lately she has been there with Calum, whom she is getting to know, and whose company she has enjoyed.

"Were you really not stalking me?" Ruth asks, once their coffees and Danish have been brought to their table.

Jane laughs briefly. "Surprisingly, no I wasn't. I met Phillip for a late lunch. He's having to take leave in a few weeks. Poor love is worn out, and needs some time away from work. I told him he's the boss and so should be able to take as much time off as he pleases, but he says he has to set an example to staff. I say he's a soft sod who's about to work himself into an early grave. Phillip wants to head north." Jane wrinkles her nose on the word, `north', and Ruth can't help but smile. Harry's ex-wife is a snob, but a kind and well-meaning snob.

"Harry's suspension has ended."

"That _is_ good news. So …... he's not being thrown into the dungeon then."

"No," Ruth smiles up at Jane. "but he is being forced to retire."

"That's good news, surely. You'll be able to spend more time together."

Ruth sighs, and takes a quick sip of her coffee. "I thought I'd be over the moon, but I'm ….. a bit upset about it. Harry has been the strength of his section for so long now, and what does he get for that? He gets shown the door."

"What does he think about it?"

"He's had some time to contemplate the possibility that they may throw him out, and while he's not exactly happy about the way in which it came about, he's looking forward to not having to be artificially pleasant to what he calls `bloody politicians and sociopaths.' I think he deserves a rest."

"As do we all, Ruth."

Ruth nods, noticing how there are times when Jane Townsend can be a rather good listener. "I should be at work now, but I can't bear to see Harry entering what used to be his office, only to be packing his possessions in a cardboard box, which he'll carry to his car, and then take home and put in the attic …... the sum total of his time at MI5. Somewhere inside myself, I'm hoping the terrorists give the new section head a run for her money."

"That's the spirit, Ruth. You have to go down screaming, I always say." Above her coffee cup, Ruth can see that Jane's eyes are twinkling with mischief. Ruth also notices that Jane hasn't touched her Danish, even though she had ordered and paid for a Danish each. "I never eat mine," Jane adds, as if she can read Ruth's thoughts. "I pretend to eat, but I can't afford to get fat. You, on the other hand, you're as slim as a rake. You must have lucky genes."

"I'm hardly slim," Ruth protests. "You haven't seen my thighs."

Jane chuckles cheerily, and Ruth suspects Jane is happy that there are women in the world with heavier thighs than her own.

"I take it Catherine and Mark are home from Australia."

"They are, and in two weeks they head back to the Middle East. I don't understand my daughter at all. She's explained it all to me, but I can't work out why she is prepared to put her life in danger for people she doesn't know."

"Harry has spent most of his working life doing that very thing."

"Yes, but he's a man. That's what men do."

"Do you think that putting one's life on the line should be the sole domain of men?"

Jane looks closely at Ruth and then smiles. "You're quite something, you know that? I can really see why Harry is so stimulated by you." Jane takes another sip of her coffee. "I believe that men are the protectors – of their wives, partners, children, aging parents, the wider community, and in Harry's case, their country. We have these roles for a reason. Women nurture and provide wisdom and direction, and men protect, and fight on our behalf. If you upset that, the world gets a little unbalanced."

Sensing she is getting close to the real Jane Townsend, Ruth chooses her words very carefully. "I think that Catherine does what she does because of a deep desire to nurture. It's just that she sees the world as her family, her responsibility …. a little like her father."

"Mmm, you might be right, Ruth." Jane sits back in her chair and watches Ruth, almost stares at her in that disconcerting way both she and Harry have. "I'd be happy were she to settle down in London with a husband, and have a couple of kids. She could still make her documentaries."

"I suspect that the stories she wants to tell are happening in other countries."

"There are plenty of stories in this country," Jane replies, "and you don't have to go far to find them."

Ruth breaks eye contact with Jane, feeling a little flummoxed. She concentrates on her coffee, finishing the last of it. She has only eaten half her Danish. "You …. you surpise me, Jane," she says.

"That I have a brain? That I have an opinion which I worked out myself without being directed there by my partner?"

"Yes, I suppose that's what I'm thinking."

"Harry would never have married an airhead. He's turned on by intelligence in a woman, and it's easy to see why he cares for you."

"I know." And Ruth does know. Their phone conversations have been wonderful – fiery, stimulating, often heated, but never dull. Ruth picks at what is left of her Danish, almost afraid to eat it in case it ends up on her thighs. "I am seeing a different side to you, and I'm wondering …..."

"... what the dumb blond act is about?"

"Not exactly. I'm wondering why you cover your intelligence, your thoughtfulness. It seems to me to be … counterintuitive."

"I like men, and apart from Harry, all the other men in my life have been attracted to my social persona – my ditsy side. All the men I have been with since Harry have needed me to look good and not be smarter than they are, so ….. that's what I give them. They get what they want, and so do I."

"I'm not sure I could do that."

"I'm not being disingenuous. There is a part of me which longs to be the life of the party, and to never have a more complicated thought than what colour nail polish I should wear to match my outfit. I _loved_ Scarlett O'Hara in _Gone With The Wind_. I wish I was that shallow ….. but I'm not, so I pretend to be, and everyone is happy, including me. My mother used to say I should be on the stage." Realising that she has shared a secret she has kept well hidden, Jane quickly looks down, breaking eye contact with Ruth. "So now you know all there is to know about me."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"No, it's not, but you almost know more about me than anyone, and that makes me ..."

"Vulnerable?"

"Somewhat."

"You have nothing to fear from me, Jane."

"I know."

There is an emerging awkwardness which sits in the air between them, but which is immediately shattered when Ruth's phone rings.

"Excuse me," she says. "I was meant to be back on the Grid twenty minutes ago."

"Go," Jane says, flicking her fingers in the air in that way she has. Ruth knows it is well meant, and not necessarily a gesture of dismissal. Jane is simply giving her permission to leave without censure or embarrassment.

"Thank you," Ruth says, quickly grabbing her phone from her pocket, and answering the call as she leaves the coffee shop.

"Where are you?" says a familiar voice. "I was hoping you'd be on the Grid to see me off."

"I hadn't wanted to witness your …..."

"My fall from grace?"

"You haven't fallen from grace."

"Actually, I have, and I don't mind, Ruth. Really, I don't. I want to see you. Where are you?"

"I'm heading towards the embankment. I -"

"Wait for me there."

"I have so much work to do."

"Sod work. Surely this is more important than work. I'm five minutes away. Stay there."

He ends the call abruptly, and Ruth is about to slip her phone back into her pocket when again it rings. She answers without checking the caller's identity.

"Harry, I'm almost there. We can -"

"Ms Evershed. Ruth. It's William Towers."

_Bloody hell!_

"Home Secretary, what can I do for you?"

"I have an offer which may interest you. Are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

* * *

Ruth's reunion with Harry, their first time alone in over five weeks, is inauspicious. Ruth is sitting on a bench by the Thames, contemplating the river, when she is quietly joined by Harry, who first leans across to kiss her cheek before sitting beside her, their bodies not touching. She turns towards him and smiles. They both sit with hands stuffed into their pockets, a concession to their deep need to be touching one another.

"Hi," she says quietly.

"I'd like it were you to come back to mine tonight."

Ruth nods. "I really have to get back to the Grid," she says, turning to look at him, drinking in the features she'd had to keep alive in her imagination.

Harry turns his body to face her, and removes one hand from his pocket to rest it on her knee. Ruth can't help herself. She takes her hand from her own pocket and covers his with her own. Their skin is warm, and he lifts his thumb to caress the outside of her own thumb. That one small gesture sends a thrill through them both.

"Erin told me to tell you that Gemma and Josh are covering for you this afternoon," he says quietly.

"Gemma and Josh? They can't possibly know what I was planning to do."

"As it turns out, they do, and Calum is overseeing their activities …. just in case. Come home with me. Now."

"What about a farewell drink at The George? Isn't that normally what happens now?"

"Tomorrow night at six. Erin has organised everything so that we have tonight to ourselves."

Ruth experiences a moment of panic. "But ….. everyone will know we're ….. They'll know what we're doing."

"Yes …. they will, and hopefully they will be happy for us ….. and they'll not be thinking too much about …... what we'll be doing."

For a few long moments they watch one another, until Ruth relaxes and leans back, letting out her breath in a long sigh. "Alright. I suppose the world won't fall into chaos if I take the rest of the afternoon off."

Harry smiles and then leans across to kiss her. It is their first kiss in five and a half weeks, and although brief, it is very sweet and warm and familiar. For Ruth, it means her world still turns.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: This is the last chapter. My next fic follows on from this one, and this Jane makes a brief appearance, but she does not feature beyond that.  
**_

_**Warning: M stuff in the early part of this chapter.**_

_**Thank you to readers and especially to reviewers of this fic.**_

* * *

8 weeks later – somewhere in Cumbria - early morning:

"Turn over."

"Why?"

"I want to see your face."

"Ruth …. you'll be seeing my ugly mug every morning for the rest of our lives. Another five minutes shut-eye won't hurt."

"Maybe I don't want you to sleep the morning away."

It is when he feels her fingers slide around his waist and then under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms that Harry quickly turns to look at Ruth. Seeing her torso completely naked, accompanied by her fingers inching their way under the fabric of his pyjama bottoms has his body responding in the usual way. "Christ, Ruth. Why didn't you just ask me to fuck you?" He is already tugging at his pyjama bottoms, while Ruth places kisses on his bare chest.

"You might be able to talk dirty to me, but I still find it …."

"Hard? It certainly is, Ruth."

She begins laughing against his left nipple, and so he pushes her a little away from him so that he can look into her eyes. His hands are still under the covers, and so he very slowly slides his fingers under the fabric of her knickers, to find she is already very wet. He removes his fingers from inside her underwear, but she grabs his hand and pushes it back underneath the waistband of her pants. "Don't fuck with me, Harry," she says, glaring up at him across his naked skin.

"But I thought that's what you wanted."

"You know very well what I mean."

He does, of course. He knows exactly what she is after, and how she likes it. He pushes his fingers further inside her underwear, until he dips two fingers inside her, encouraged by the moans which emanate from the back of her throat as she arches her neck and shoulders away from him. He rolls her over onto her back as he kisses her deeply and passionately, grinding himself against her thigh, as she lifts her hips towards him. Ruth pushes his pyjama pants over his hips and then down to his knees, and then he feels one of her hands grasp him. This is such a familiar dance. He loves how shy Ruth can be when talking about having sex with him, and then how bold she becomes once she is aroused and in desperate need of him. Her fingers are firm around his erection, as she very slowly moves her hand along the length of him. This time it is he who cannot hold in his moan of arousal.

"Wait," he gasps. Reluctantly Harry removes Ruth's hand, pulling her fingers into his mouth, where he winds his tongue around each fingertip in turn. He knows he's just killing time until he's inside her. If he did this his way, he'd already be inside her and only moments from orgasm. He does it this way because it drives her crazy with want …... and nothing turns him on more than Ruth wanting him. He removes his fingers from inside her mouth, and leans into her, very slowly licking the skin of her neck, from beneath her ear to her collar bone, and then back again. _Very_ slowly and deliberately.

"Harry," she says at last, her breath coming in gasps. "_Please_ …..."

"What, Ruth? Say it," he whispers, his breath tickling the skin of her shoulder.

"I want you to ….."

"What?"

"You know what I want to say."

"Then say it."

"I want you inside me, Harry. I want you to fuck me."

"When?"

"_Now_. Right now."

It is all he needs to hear. He enjoys it most when she begs him. Within moments he is inside her, and everything after that is slow then fast, then slow, then chasing the thrill of the climb followed by the fall.

Afterwards they lie still, their breathing still heavy, chests heaving, their bodies slick with sweat despite the cloudy dampness outside the window. Without saying another word they doze until they are woken by the sounds of the hotel stirring outside their room.

"We have to go walking today," Ruth says.

"We don't _have_ to."

"We didn't come all this way so that we could have sex all day and night."

"We didn't? You brought me here under false pretenses, Ruth."

She laughs huskily, turning to face him, and lightly kisses his lips. "We only have two more nights until we have to travel back to London. We have to make the most of it."

"I thought that's what we've just done. How often will we be having sex in the morning once you begin working for Towers?"

"We can still do this in the mornings, Harry. We'll just need to wake up earlier. I'm hungry. I need breakfast."

Harry lies back against the pillow as Ruth extricates herself from his embrace, and then leaves the bed, walking naked across the room towards the bathroom, the curves of her body glistening in the muted light from the window. He sighs and closes his eyes for a few more moments. If Ruth has her way he'll need to conserve his energy.

* * *

Later the same day – Cumbria:

The well-dressed middle-aged couple sit at the table overlooking the window, a pot of coffee on the table between them.

"Let's go for a walk," she says, suddenly getting up from her chair and slipping her arms into her jacket.

"What ….. now?"

"Yes, now." She grasps her partner's hand, and pulls him up to stand beside her. "Just around the hotel grounds. We've been sitting all day. I need to stretch my muscles, and I need some air. Come on, lazybones."

The couple leave the room by a side door which leads onto a terrace, and from the terrace they step down to a driveway, and across the driveway is a vast expanse of lawn dotted with shrubs and trees, some in arbours surrounding seats where some of the hotel's guests already sit, relishing the open air before the cool of the evening drives them inside.

The woman grasps the man's hand, pulling him along as she heads towards the gates of the hotel, large metal structures standing wide open, an invitation to anyone wishing to explore either inside or outside the hotel grounds. Just as they take a turn in the hotel driveway, they see another couple walking towards them, their body language conveying weariness.

The smartly dressed woman stops dead, her hand still holding her partner's hand so that he is jerked back to stand beside her. Weary or not, she'd know that walk anywhere. "Bloody hell," she says quietly. "Look who it is."

Her partner follows her gaze to see a balding middle aged man, tired from their walk, accompanied by a woman, a little younger, her shoulder-length brunette hair just a little bedraggled from the wind. "It's Harry," he says.

"And Ruth," she adds. "What are they doing here?"

"The same thing we are," he replies.

By the time the two couples acknowledge the presence of the other, they are only a few yards from one another, and so it is too late for avoiding the other. All four are momentarily shocked into silence.

Fortunately, Phillip is the first to remember his manners. "Ruth …... Harry, we hadn't expected …... this."

"No, nor we," Harry replies, stepping next to Ruth, resting a protective hand along her back. Ruth lifts her left hand and brushes a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

"We were not following you, so maybe you're following us," Jane says, attempting lightness and failing. "We'd like to invite you to join us for dinner, but we can see you're …... busy."

"It's lovely to see you both," Ruth says, slowly moving towards Harry's ex-wife and her partner. "Please excuse us if we hurry back to our room. We're both …."

"Exhausted," Harry finishes for her, almost pushing her from behind. "We both need a shower, and we'll be eating dinner in our room."

"I hope you enjoy your stay," Ruth continues formally. "It's lovely here and the food is …."

"Very good," Harry finishes.

Very carefully Phillip grasps Jane's elbow, pulling her aside so that the other couple can continue along the driveway to the hotel. All four of them nod politely to the other couple, and then Ruth and Harry disappear around the curve in the drive and out of sight, so that Jane and Phillip are left standing on their own, still in mild shock.

"We have to go," Phillip says.

"Why? I'm sure there's room for the four of us here. We can invite them to have dinner with us tomorrow night. Catherine told me Harry had retired, so he has plenty of time on his hands."

"You didn't notice, did you?"

"Notice what? Phillip, I have no idea what you're talking about. You might have to draw me a picture."

"The rings. They're wearing wedding rings – shiny, _new_ gold wedding rings."

"They're married? When did that happen? Why does no-one tell me anything anymore?"

"It means they're probably on their honeymoon. The last thing they need is you and me staying in the same hotel."

"You're suggesting we leave …... today?"

"Jane, I'm suggesting we leave right now. I'll pay for the nights we booked, and we can find somewhere else, even if it's a B&amp;B."

"A B&amp;B? I don't think I can do that, Phillip."

"The experience might be humbling, Jane," he says, grasping her elbow tighter as he leads her back along the drive to the hotel. "All I know is that I'm not allowing you to spoil Ruth's and Harry's honeymoon."

Jane stops dead, turning to glare at Phillip. "Is that what you think of me? Do you really think I'd spoil Ruth's honeymoon for her?"

"No, but you might take pleasure in spoiling Harry's. We're going. Now."

Phillip pushes Jane up the drive, and she almost has to run to keep up. Phillip barely listens as Jane chatters all the way. "I hadn't known you could be this masterful, Phillip. I just might be a little turned on."

"Please shut up, Jane," he says. "For once, this isn't about us."

* * *

Much later, after they have showered, changed and then rested, Harry and Ruth sit at a table under the window in their hotel room and enjoy a quiet meal. Harry orders a bottle of white wine to accompany the meal of monkfish. He pours a full glass for himself and at her insistence, a half glass for Ruth.

"How are we going to avoid them?" Ruth asks, having eaten as much as she can of her dinner. "I don't wish our last two nights here to be about what Jane thinks of the Lake District."

"She thinks it's small …. and gloomy ….. and cold …. and over-priced."

"They're going to Europe next year, when Phillip takes a few months' leave. I suspect this trip is a trial run."

"Why are we talking about Jane and Phillip?" Harry asks, putting down his glass of wine, and staring across the table at Ruth.

Ruth is just about to answer when they hear a knock at their door.

"Bloody hell," Harry growls. "If that's Jane or Phillip, I will not be responsible for my actions."

"It might be important," Ruth suggests, not wanting anything to interfere with their all-too-brief four-day honeymoon. "Do you want me to go?"  
"No, Ruth, I'll go. If it's either of our stalkers I'm prepared to tell them where to go," Harry says as he rises from the table, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and strides to the door. Harry opens the door to find a man and a woman – both hotel employees. The man is in charge of a trolley, while the woman carries a very large bouquet of flowers. "We haven't ordered room service," Harry says quickly, moving as if he's about to close the door.

"This is a gift from Mr Carmichael and Ms Townsend," the man replies. "They wish you to know that they have left the hotel to find accommodation elsewhere. Mr Carmichael made a special point of that, and wished me to convey his and Ms Townsend's very best wishes on your marriage."

"_Jesus_!" It is a rare thing for Harry to be stuck for words. He steps back, allowing room service to deliver their wares.

"The flowers and chocolates are from Mr Carmichael and Ms Townsend, and the champagne is compliments of hotel management."

Room service leaves, closing the door quietly behind them, and Harry and Ruth are still lost for words.

"Jesus," Harry repeats.

Ruth buries her face in the flowers, and then removes the card, on which brief good wishes for their marriage has been written in Jane's own handwriting. "I'll never say another bad thing about Jane or Phillip again," she says, gazing across at Harry, who is already pouring them each a glass of champage.

"I will," he says, handing Ruth her champagne. "This is nice of them, but Jane is sure to piss me off some time in the future. It's a given."

"I suppose so, but I'm keeping an open mind."

"You're altogether too nice a woman for me, Ruth," he says, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on her lips. "Here's to us, and the years ahead."

"Here's to our life together, Harry."

"Now, let's see how long it takes to polish off this champagne."

Harry refills their glasses, and they each lift their glass in a toast. "To us," they say in unison.

"To love," Ruth says quietly, so that Harry only just hears her.

"To love," he repeats, smiling down at her.


End file.
